Spring time in the Rockies - it can get a little crazy and this year is no exception. If it hasn't been windy as hell, it's been snowing. And when it hasn't been snowing, it's been....rasnowing (thanks Outdooress!).
May? Feels more like March.
Actually, I think this year is sporting the same attitude as last year, and I'm a little worried that we'll jump from winter directly into summer, by-passing those wonderful, mild May days that seem like a long-lost memory at this point.
But the fishing has been good, so I guess I need to put my big-boy underwear on and quit my sniveling.
As usual, the night before a fishing trip is always full of activity in the misanthropic Keebler Elf tree that I call home. There is a lot of running around as I bag and stack my gear, pack my edibles for the next day, and make sure I've got all my bases covered.
With revely at 03:30, I was out of the rack and on the road by 3:45 - absorbing a massive jolt of 'WAKE THE F**K UP' compliments of ice-cold coke, a pinch of cope (slogan: it satisfies!), and Machine Head's The Blackening kicking the hell out of my cerebral cortex.
Arriving at my destination wide awake, and with my brain in the fetal position, I got geared up and wound my way to the water's edge just as it was getting light enough to see.
After several days of heavy snow and lots of rain, I was a little surprised at how low and clear the water was - aside from the trail being a little muddy, there was very little evidence of the past days storm.
I started the morning at the fence-line, and walked upriver, looking for some easy targets and, not finding any, I decided to drift my line through a convenient seam just for grins.
And I nailed one. A nice one, too. And then he popped the hook. Ah well...time to move upriver to some deeper water.
Throughout the morning, it was a see-saw battle between the fish and my 7x - hit one, and the line would snap. Hit another...and I would get him to net. Stick one more and he would pop the hook. It basically went on like this for most of the morning, and I eventually wound up losing all 10 of the 'experimental' flies that I had tied the night before.
Which reminds me - since I left so many of those up on the river, I'm going to be posting that pattern soon, since someone is bound to find one in the mouth of a fish anyway.
Up until about 11 in the morning, the water was low and clear. By noon, it was becoming a little discolored, and by 1 pm, it had risen quite a bit and was as thick as soup. No kidding - there was so much junk floating in the water, it was impossible to fish.
Aside from not being able to see anything, one drift and the line, split-shot and fly were wrapped in thick green moss and other assorted goodies. Essentially the day was over by early afternoon.
Which wasn't a bad thing - I was feeling a bit tired, having only had a few hours of sleep - so getting home a little early was a bonus. And going home early with a stinky net is even better.